Chapter XXVIII.

Otago Witness, Issue 1891, 17 February 1888, Page 30

Chapter XXVIII.

Luke's Wooing. As it had been arranged, after Luke Smith met his young cousin in Maida Vale with

some unknown admirer, Effie Dorrer now took her music lessons at home.

Lucy did not very much like going down to Edgware road ; it took her nearer to the world that she had once lived in ; nearer to the park, and she dreaded that some passer-by might recognise her. But she could not very well refuse Luke Smith's request, as Mrs Gaskell told her, in her staid matronly way, that "the silly child had picked up some young man, and my brother Luke does not like it."

Thus Lucy agreed to go to Edgware road, and twice a week went, and each time that she did so, Luke Smith always contrived to see her, and generally to exchange a few words with her.

He had bought a very good new piano, and must needs consult the music teacher, of course, about its tone. He used to come up to his mother's sitting room occasionally during the lessons, and took off his blue apron on Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, and was not to be seen cutting either beef or mutton when Lucy was expected to appear!

He stood in his shop, certainly, attired in spotless garments, and looked a prosperous, eensible, good-looking man enough. He used to go forward and shake hands with Lucy,

and open the house door for her ; and Lucy thought he was very civil, and wondered why he was so unlike his once lovely mother.

This mother, looking at her son's grave face, and noting his manner to Lucy, began to perceive something of the truth. Luke's brown eyes grew softer, as they rested on the fair face of the music teacher, and Mrs Smith was not displeased to see this. She used to invite Lucy to have tea with them sometimes after the lesson was over, and twice, on these occasions, Luke escorted Miss King to the Edgware road railway station. But, there was nothing in his manner as he did this to alarm Lucy.

" I will see you safely through the street," he used to say, and to a certain extent Lucy got accustomed to his company. She was very much annoyed, therefore, when one day good-natured Mrs Berry called again to invite Lucy and her unlucky sister-in-law to dine with them on the following Sunday ; adding, with smiles beaming all over her round face :

" Aud Berry's going to ask Mr Smith ; he has a notion that you'll be Mrs Smith one of those fine days, you know, my dear, and I'm sure you could hardly do better, for Smith is a substantial man, and has a good business, and it would be so pleasant for you to have a nice home of your own."

Lucy's face turned suddenly crimson. " Please Mrs Berry, do not say such a thing," she said, in a tone of quick anoyance.

"Oh, it's only my little joke, you know," said Mrs Berry, " and there's no harm in it, you may be very sure. Well, my dear, then we'll see you on Sunday ? "

Nevertheless, when Sunday came, Lucy declined to go to Acacia Villa to meet Mr Luke Smith. She made an excuse and said she had a headache ; but she urged poor Mrs Marks not to deprive herself of the unaccustomed luxuries that awaited her at her sister-in-law's.

" Well," said Mrs Marks, pensively, " I own I'm partial to pork, and Susan said they were going to have pork and fowls, and green peas ; but still I don't like leaving you to spend the day alone." " But I should rather bo left, Mrs Marks," truthfully urged Lucy ; and the love of pork prevailed. Mrs Marks, however, cooked a nice lamb chop for her lodger before she went out to dinner, and with a sigh of relief Lucy at last found herself alone. And she sat in the little parlour, hour after hour, thinking of the past. It all seemed to rise before her in her complete loneliness. Her girlish love for Jack Munsters; the happy days when they had wandered hand in hand together by the shore. Then she recalled that dreadful day when she had picked up his message, when she believed him to be dead.

"And you thought 1 had forgotten you, Jack," she half-whispered ; " but 1 never did — I never shall."

The little gate in front of the house gave a click at this moment, and Lucy, looking hastily up, perceived to her deep annoyance, the tall figure of Luke Smith walking up the garden. And he saw her, for he took of his hat and rang the door bell. There was no one else in the house, and Lucy was thus compelled to rise and open the door. And at the door Luke stood, and held out his hand when Lucy appeared. " Mrs Berry sent me," he began ; "at least I offered to come and tell you they hope you will go to tea; and I hope your headache is better now, and I think the walk and the air will do you good." "li. is very kind of Mrs Berry, but you must-ask her'to excuse me this aEteruoon," said Lucy, casting down her blue eyes. " But why ? " persisted Luke, in his slow way. "Itis a very fine afternoon ;do come, they will think it unkind if you do not go, and if we walk slowly, it will not hurt your head."

"I have some letters to write," said Lucy; " I am si f raid I cannot go."

" And you aie all alone in the house," continued Luke. "Well, if you won't go to

Berry's may I come in and talk to you a little bit ? I've got something to say to you." Lucy felt exceedingly uncomfortable. " Mrs Marks is not at home, you know," she said, hesitatingly. " I don't want to talk to Mrs Marks, but to you," answered Luke, with a somewhat grim smile, and he followed Lucy into the little parlour and sat down, holding his hat in his hand and contemplatively smoothing the nap. " I am past thirty," he presently said, after a little pause. " Are you 1 " answered Lucy, with a smile. "And when a man gets to thirty," continued Luke, with a big gasp, "he begins to think seriously of life and things in general." " Yes." " And I have been thinking seriously, very seriously lately; I've been thinking it was time I was settled and had a wife and children of my own." Lucy made no reply to this, and began to feel exceedingly uneasy as to what might follow. "I am well off; I've a good business now; not a refined one, I dare say you think." "Well, it's not one I should have chosen, certainly." "I chose it," and Luke's face flushed, because I knew the choice would iiritate seme one to whom I owe a bitter grudge. I was told I might choose any middleclass business, and I choose the one that seemed most brutal, thongh, for the matter of that, personally I have never taken the life of any living thing. I buy the meat I sell ; but brutal as my trade may seem to you, it is not so brutal as the character of the man — who — who gave me my choice." " I — I — only meant " " I know what you meant — and — well, since I have known you I have got tired of this trade and some other things. But it's an honest calling at ?11 events, and I wish to be, and am, an honest man ; and I can cease to be a butcher to-morrow, for that matter, and if you wish me to cease I shall do so 1" "I have nothing to do with it, Mr Smith." " Yes, you have ; I have called here to-day for a purpose — that purpose is to ask you to be my wife ?" And Luko looked straight at Lucy's face, who blushed deeply and drew nervously back. « i_i_ am very sorry you have said this," she faltered. " Why 1" asked Luke, abruptly. " Because — it can only give you pain — because it cannot be." " Will you tell me why 1 Because I'm a tradesman — a butcher ?" "I think we need not talk of it any more." " But I must talk of it ! I will talk of it 1" said Luke, rising to his feet with sudden passion. "So you despise me — despise an honest man's love because he is not tricked out with some of the honours of the world ! What would you have said," he continued, with extraordinary bitterness, "if 1 could | have made you my lady 1 Even if I had been bloated, old, wine-soaked, perhaps then j you would not have said me nay 1" A crimson glow stole even over Lucy's whi';e throat at these biting words. " Eeally, Mr Smith " " No, then you would have put your dainty hand in mine ! Then you would have overlooked any little deficiencies in my morals, my character, or my face ! You wonder at my bitterness, my rudeness ? Perhaps some i day you will understand it. Perhaps some day you will give me a different answer to what you have done now ; but all the same, the sweetness will be gone — yes, the sweetness will be gone ! " He left the room and the house before Lucy could utter another word. She sat half-frightened, half-amazed, after he was gone. What could he mean 7 It was most unpleasant, most unfortunate, and she wondered if he were quite in his right mind. This slow, sober, civil man, suddenly to burst into this torrent of violent excitement and passion ! And could she have seen Luke Smith shortly after he had quitted her, she would have had greater reason still to think him bereft of reason. He had flung himself down under the first big tree that he had come upon, and with bitter curses on his lips waß reviling Sir William Harley's name ! " Bub for him," he muttered between his clinched teeth, " this would never have happened. I could have gone to her in my rightful name ; but I will go to her — I will marry her, though I shall always know 3he has no real love for me."

He wandered about until it was dark, scarcely knowing where he went. Then a determined resolve took possession of him, and with a pale set face he turned his feotsteps towards his home.